Willa Nash

“I like accounting,” I said the moment she answered.

Lucy laughed. “Cynthia? Is that you?”

“I love you.” His voice was a warm caress. “Fuck, but I love you.”

“You know? I can’t even taste the vodka anymore.” Kerrigan hiccupped and gulped her drink.

“Cuz that’s water, sweetie.” Jane patted her on the shoulder.

“Now it’s your turn. Who are you?”

“No one special.”

I hummed. “Nice to meet you, No One Special. Mind if I call you Hot Bar Guy instead?”

Except every time I closed my eyes, I saw a sparkling bronze gaze. Caramel irises flecked with dark chocolate and cinnamon. I saw creamy, smooth skin the color of melted honey.

Two minutes with my daughter, with a glass window between us.

Two-minute glimpses became my reason for living.

Two minutes at the park. Two minutes on the school playground when she snuck away from her friends and teachers to say hello at the chain-link fence.

Calamity was a small town and though it was impossible to escape the sins of my past, it was worth suffering here on the off chance I could see my kid.

“How about a repeat?”

“Seems like a crime against humanity to let such good sex go to waste.”

“Just sex. That’s all I’ve got to give.”

Fifteen minutes later, she sat beside me on the couch, grinning from ear to ear as she told me she was pregnant.